Handling Cynthia: A Second Chances Novella (5 page)

Maybe this
could
work—assuming Cyn wanted him
and
she was a submissive. Even with the long odds, he had to take a chance. Admit his mistakes and put the past behind them, so they could start at zero and move forward.

He needed to go into this prepared. Cyn wasn't Roxana, and her needs would be different. He should have gotten formal training when Roxana suggested it. No point in thinking about that now. He had to learn what he could, and fast.

Cyn settled back into her chair next to Trent. He looked up from his cell phone and stuffed it in the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

"You and Bernie looked cozy," she said. "Reminiscing?"

"No, we were…" The ridge between his brows deepened. "Never mind." His green eyes drilled into her, pupils large, whether from desire or the dim light, she couldn't tell. A flush warmed her from her chest to her belly.

"Dance with me," he said.

She swallowed.
Hell yeah.
"Okay."

A strong hand encircled hers. With a commanding stride, he led her through the crowd to the open floor.

He drew her near, fingers threading through hers, the other palm at the small of her back. The urge to press against him burned under her skin. Not here, with all these eyes watching. What would Rick think of her hooking up with Trent? Would he suspect that she'd cheated with him while they were dating? That would be awful. She couldn't hurt him that way.

They kept a decent distance, like friends. But the lightheadedness that came over her from breathing his spicy scent, like cloves and black tea,
that
was nothing like friendship. It was pure animal want.

She looked up at him, giving him her best coy look, but his eyes grew hard.

"Cyn, I need to say something…something I should have said five years ago."

Her cheeks turned hot and she couldn't meet his gaze. Every part of her vibrated with longing. She couldn't let him see that ache, couldn't bare that much of herself to him. Not yet.

"That night you and Rick broke up," he continued, "we were drinking, and I had too much. It got to me, seeing you upset. I wanted to protect you, show you how beautiful and desirable you are."

"Trent," she murmured, her body melting in his arms. In his sheltering embrace, her confidence rose. She no longer feared his reaction. It was time to tell him how she felt, how she had fantasized about him since that night.

"It was wrong," he said, his voice thin, "my kissing you. You and Rick had just broken up. You were vulnerable, and I should have known better, even if I was a dumb kid. I wish it had never happened."

Her body went rigid, and the music fell silent in her ears. The kiss she had lived for, over the past five years—he
regretted
it?

Her chest tightened, air straining through her lungs. What a fool she was, to think the kiss meant to him what it did to her! She pulled back, retreating from his penetrating eyes that could see through to her deepest wants.

She swallowed down a sob, her throat aching. She couldn’t stop her hands from trembling. Nausea rolled in her stomach, like a ten-foot swell lifting her and sending her crashing down.

Please, not here. I can't cry in front of all these people.
Searching through tears for the nearest exit, she walked away as fast as she could in those stilettos, barely managing to get out of the ballroom without turning her ankle.

In the hallway, she walked purposefully. The only thing that could make this worse would be if Denitra and her group of friends—gathered around the registration table, cocktails in hand—sensed her distress and came after her. She needed a tissue to dry her face, but her purse was back at the table.

She spotted the restroom and pushed inside, bright fluorescents washing the color out of the pale green walls. She went to the first stall and grabbed a handful of toilet paper, dabbing her eyes with the rough tissue.

She was so stupid, building this fantasy in her mind. If she'd meant anything to Trent in high school, he didn't feel the same now. She had ruined her chance with him.

Her determination to be with him languished behind her fear. How could she tell him what she felt, when he so obviously didn't?

She had let five years slip by, too frightened by her own reaction to let herself get close to him again. All those women's studies courses talking about female empowerment. She had finally realized that feminism meant being true to yourself regardless of gender expectations—which for her meant accepting her submissive tendencies. She didn't want a 24/7 power exchange. But in the bedroom…damn it, she wanted Trent, the way he had been that night, holding her down and pressing unbidden kisses onto her lips, erection like steel against her hip announcing his power and the intoxicating effect she had on him.

If she backed off now, where would she end up? At some BDSM club trying to find a Dom she could trust? Even if she found a guy who wasn't some pervert wannabe, she didn't want sex with a man she didn't love just to fulfill her fantasies. She'd rather stay celibate than sleep around.

A stall door opened, and Bernadette walked up to the sink. "You okay, hon?"

Cyn nodded. "Tonight's not going the way I hoped. And now my mascara's smudged, and I don't have my makeup with me."

"Here, use mine." Bernie dried her hands and pulled tubes of concealer and mascara from her purse.

"Thanks." She dabbed the concealer onto a finger and covered the smudges beneath her eyes. It was a shade too dark, but it was better than nothing. A coat of mascara made her look almost natural.

Bernie took back the makeup she handed her. "You and Rick seemed cozy before."

"Rick and I will always be friends." She met Bernadette's green eyes. "I stayed with him too long. And now I can't stop thinking about what might have been."

Bernie nodded. "You mean with Trent."

Her lips parted. Her stomach fell like a ruined soufflé. "Trent and I never…"

"I know. If you had, he'd have never looked at me again."

"Bernie—"

"Don't worry about it. He and I weren't meant to be. Not like I haven't had plenty of sex since then."

Cyn giggled. It felt good to laugh, opening the tension in her chest. "Probably way more than me."

Bernie's brows rose. "You must have had plenty of chances."

"I've never been a party girl. In college, I spent most weekend nights in my room, studying. Or writing truly awful poetry or literary short stories. Ironically, it turns out my true calling is erotic romance."

"Get out! Little Miss Princess, writing the naughty stuff?"

Cyn drew her brows together. "Do you think sex is naughty?"

"Well, no. I think it's fantastic."

"Me, too. It's the source of life. It strengthens the bond between partners to keep families together. Pleasure is only one part of it. And what's wrong with pleasure, anyway?"

"Damn straight." Bernie freshened her lipstick. "If you want Trent, make it happen."

"What if it's too late?"

"When I saw him earlier, he couldn't take his eyes off you."

"He kissed me once. Right before we left for college. He made a big production of apologizing tonight. That's what I am to him—a source of regret. He finally took a chance and wishes he hadn't. So how can I take a chance now?"

"He's got a nine-inch cock," Bernadette said.

Cyn stared.

"You know, in case that's a deciding factor," Bernie added.

"So you're saying I should go after his nine-inch cock, even if he's not interested in me romantically."

"Hell, yeah. That's what I had planned for tonight, until you showed up in that dress. You look like sex on a stick. No way that man wouldn't sleep with you if you made an offer."

Cyn pondered her options. Maybe Bernadette had a point. She was putting too much pressure on herself. She had come here to fuck Trent, and that's what she intended to do. If they ended up in a relationship, that was great. But she wasn't going to deny herself the fulfillment of her fantasy just because he couldn't promise her the full package.

Especially if he's got such a full package.

Oh, stop with the clichés. You're better than that.

"I don't really believe in casual sex," she said.

"You don't know whether it's going to be casual until afterward, right?"

She blinked, her mind opening. Bernie had a point. Relationships took time. Despite your best efforts, they didn't always work out.

She and Trent had a history. They cared for each other. Sex between them could never be casual. "I guess the real question is, do I trust him?"

"For what it's worth, he was always good to me. Made me feel special, even though I knew he wasn't in love with me."

A chasm opened in her heart. "That's so sad."

"Not necessarily. I'm not like you. My happily ever after is becoming CEO of a Fortune 500 company. No Prince Charming required."

A broad smile swept over her face. "Good for you."

"Trent and I are too much alike. We both want to be in charge. Whereas you're a people pleaser. That's why he's drawn to you. It's also why things didn't work out between you and Rick. He doesn't want to be in charge—he likes to try things to see what happens. I remember times when it seemed like you were about to go along with some dumb idea of his, and Trent would pull you back. At the time, I thought you were weak, but now I understand how much courage it takes to give someone else control. But it's got to be someone worthy of that trust. Rick could never be that guy. Trent can."

"You're seriously telling me to go after your ex-boyfriend?"

"It's been five years. And honestly, he was never mine. I put myself through hell wondering why I couldn't make him feel what you did…Now, I realize it wasn't some fault in me. We just weren't compatible. And meanwhile, there was a guy who worshipped the ground I walked on, and I didn't appreciate him."

"Max? He turned out nice. Hot and rich. Wouldn't have expected that."

"Did you realize he skipped a year? He was only sixteen when we graduated. No wonder he was such a dweeb in high school. He was a baby."

"You gonna go for it?"

"I'm alone, he's alone, and he's my type—tall and blond and smart."

"And rich."

"And hopefully, he's got a nine-inch cock."

"Good luck with that." She took Bernie's arm. "Thanks for cheering me up. I'm sorry we lost touch. When I left for college, I was in such a bad place. Rick and Trent had broken my heart. All the girls from high school hated me, or so I thought. When my folks moved to Connecticut, it was easy to put this place behind me. All the pain, all the jealousy. And I was so jealous of you."

"Jealous of me?"

"When I found out you and Trent slept together, I cried for two days straight. My mom threatened to take me to a doctor to put me on tranquilizers."

"But you were with Rick!"

"Rick was my best friend. We weren't in love anymore. We were both afraid to end it." Cyn closed her eyes and sighed, letting the tension flow out of her. "High school was so messed up."

"Glad I'm a grown-up now."

"Me, too."

They went back to the ballroom together. Bernadette headed for Max, and Cyn went to find Trent.

***

Trent stood near the covered pool in the biting fall air. When Cyn had run, he'd frozen in place. The look of horror on her face told him everything he needed to know. She wasn't a submissive. The reminder of that kiss had brought back the sense of violation she must have felt when he overpowered her. All her affection for him was gone.

He slid his hands into his suit jacket pockets, struggling to stay warm. How could he go back inside, face those people? The way Cyn had run off, it was clear he'd done something horrible. He'd wanted to go after her, but he couldn't put her through it.

She was better off with Rick.

Yet, his arms still remembered how she had fit inside them on the dance floor, her body soft and willing. Her face had shown no aversion then.

That night at the party—had he imagined that she submitted to him willingly, because he wanted it so badly? It felt like every second of the kiss was seared into his brain. But he'd gone over it so many times, maybe he had reconstructed the moments in his mind.

He had promised himself he wouldn't let her make a fool of him again. Yet that's exactly what she had done. Or, more accurately, he'd made a fool of himself. Cyn didn't deserve the blame for his stupidity.

The creaking of a door drew his attention to the exit behind him. Rick stepped out of the building and sauntered over.

He didn't meet Rick's gaze, just stared into the crooked line of Orion's Belt in the sky.

His friend's voice was soft and low. "Everything okay?"

Trent filled his lungs with the cold night air. How could he answer that question? Nothing was okay. He couldn't tell Rick his secret—that he got off on dominating women. Rick would pummel him into the ground for what he'd done to Cyn.

How could he make it up to her—make her understand that she was precious to him, that he would never force himself on her? That night at the party, he'd gotten caught up in the moment. Once he realized what he was doing, he let her go.

Every part of him wanted Cyn, wanted to possess and please her. Could he do that without dominating her? Could he be satisfied with a vanilla relationship?